| Love Works |
Feb 4, 2006 2:03 pm
120 Views |  | A guardian angel
Flew down from above,
To teach me a lesson
About the powers of love.
She whispers to me,
Take a hold of my hand,
There are so many things
I wish you to understand.
About the powers of love,
And all it can do,
To someone who needs
To share it with you.
A pat on the back,
A kind smile on your face,
Can make someone's life,
A much brighter place.
It doesn't take much,
To show someone you care,
To give them the love,
God gave you to share.
So please keep in mind,
All the powers you possess,
To grace someone's life,
When they're in distress.
You've been put on this earth
To bestow the powers of love,
And with those final words,
She disappeared up above. |
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| People Come Into Your Life For A Reason |
Feb 4, 2006 11:39 am
108 Views |  | People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a Godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.
Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your Turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant. |
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| Unconditional Love |
Feb 4, 2006 10:25 am
108 Views |  | A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam.
He called his parents from San Francisco.
"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend, I'd like to bring home with me." "Sure," they replied, "We'd love to meet him." "There's something you should know", the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us." "I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "You don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own." At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him.
A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were
told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but
to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.
The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like
people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful,
or smart as we are.
Thankfully, there's Someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are. Tonight, before you tuck yourself in for the night, say a little prayer that God will give you the strength you need to accept people as they
are, and to help us all be more understanding of those who are different from us!
1 Samuel 16 But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not look at his appearance or at his physical stature, because I have refused him. For the LORD does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." |
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| Personal Angels |
Feb 3, 2006 5:13 pm
247 Views |  | Some people don't know how important it is that they exist.
Some people don't know how good it is just to see them.
Some people don't know how comforting their smile is.
Some people don't know how good it feels to be near them.
Some people don't know how much poorer we would be without them.
Some people don't know that they are like Heaven's gift to us.
They would know if we told them.
Like I'm Telling You. |
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| My Resume, I Wonder Why I Can't Find A Job |
Feb 3, 2006 4:17 pm
219 Views |  | My first job was working in an Orange Juice factory, but I got canned. I couldn't concentrate.
Then I worked in the woods as a Lumberjack, but I just couldn't hack it, so they gave me the axe.
After that, I tried to be a Tailor, but I just wasn't suited for it - mainly because it was a sew-sew job.
Next, I tried working in a Muffler Factory, but that was too exhausting.
Then, I tried to be a Chef - figured it would add a little spice to my life, but I just didn't have the thyme.
I attempted to be a Deli Worker, but any way I sliced it, I couldn't cut the mustard.
My best job was being a Musician, but eventually I found I wasn't noteworthy.
I studied a long time to become a Doctor, but I didn't have any patience.
Next, was a job in a Shoe Factory. I tried but I just didn't fit in.
I became a Professional Fisherman, but discovered that I couldn't live on my net income.
I managed to get a good job working for a Pool Maintenance Company, but the work was just too draining.
So then I got a job in a Workout Center, but they said I wasn't fit for the job.
After many years of trying to find steady work, I finally got a job as a Historian - until I realized there was no future in it.
So, I retired and I found I'm perfect for the job! |
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| Signs That You Are Getting Older |
Feb 3, 2006 2:23 pm
231 Views |  | * You got cable for the Weather Channel
* If a young girl looks at you, you check to make sure you remembered to put on your pants.
* When you do the "Hokey Pokey" you put your left hip out and you can't get it back around.
* Most women you know under 40 put you in the "Friend of my Father" class.
* Restaurants stop asking to see your senior discount card.
* You have a party and the neighbors don't even realize it.
* You quit trying to hold your stomach in, no matter who walks into the room.
* You talk about "good grass" and you're referring to someone's lawn.
* Your joints are more accurate than the National Weather Service.
* Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't remember them either. |
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| The Pearl |
Feb 3, 2006 9:13 am
188 Views | David Morse, American missionary to India, became great friends there with the pearl-diver, Rambhau. Many an evening he spent in Rambhau's cabin reading to him from the Bible, and explaining to him God's way of salvation.
Rambhau enjoyed listening to the Word of God, but whenever the missionary tried to get Rambhau to accept Christ as his Savior he would shake his head and reply, "Your Christian way to heaven is too easy for me! I cannot accept it. If ever I should find admittance to heaven in that manner. I would feel like a pauper there, like a beggar who has been let in out of pity. I may be proud but I want to deserve, I want to earn my place in heaven and so I am going to work for it."
Nothing the missionary could say seemed to have any effect on Rambhau's decision, and so quite a few years slipped by. One evening, however, the missionary heard a knock on his door, and on going to open it he found Rambhau there.
"Come in, dear friend," said Morse.
"No," said the pearl-diver. "I want you to come with me to my house, Sahib, for a short time. I have something to show you. Please do not say 'No'."
"Of course I'll come," replied the missionary. As they neared his house, Rambhau said: "In a week's time I start working for my place in heaven; I am leaving for Delhi and I am going there on my knees."
"Man, you are crazy! It's nine hundred miles to Delhi, and the skin will break on your knees, and you will have blood-poisoning or leprosy before you get to Bombay."
"No, I must get to Delhi," affirmed Rambhau, "and the immortals will reward me for it! The suffering will be sweet for it will purchase heaven for me!"
"Rambhau, my friend... you can't. How can I bear you to do it when Jesus Christ has suffered and died to purchase heaven for you!"
But the old man could not be moved. "You are my dearest friend on earth, Sahib Morse. Through all these years you have stood by me in sickness, in want, you have been sometimes my only friend. But even you cannot turn me from my desire to purchase eternal bliss, I must go to Delhi!"
Inside the hut Morse was seated in the very chair Rambhau had specially built for him where on so many occasions he had read to him the Bible.
Rambhau left the room to return soon with a small but heavy English strongbox. "I have had this box for years," said he, "and I keep only one thing in it. Now I will tell you about it, Sahib Morse. I once had a son."
"A son! Why, Rambhau, you have never before said a word about him!"
"No, Sahib, I couldn't." Even as he spoke the diver's eyes were moistened.
"Now I must tell you, for soon I will leave, and who knows whether I shall ever return? My son was a diver too. He was the best pearl diver on the coasts of India. He had the swiftest dive, the keenest eye, the strongest arm, the longest breath of any man who ever sought for pearls.
What joy he brought to me! Most pearls, as you know, have some defect or blemish only the expert can discern, but my boy always dreamed of finding the 'perfect' pearl... one beyond all that was ever found. One day he found it! But even when he saw it he had been under water too long. That pearl cost him his life, for he died soon after."
The old pearl diver bowed his head. For a moment his whole body shook, but there was no sound. "All these years," he continued, "I have kept this pearl but now I am going, not to return, and to you, my best friend I am giving my pearl."
The old man worked the combination on the strongbox and drew from it a carefully wrapped package. Gently opening the cotton, he picked up a mammoth pearl and placed it in the hand of the missionary.
It was one of the largest pearls ever found off the coast of India, and glowed with a luster and brilliance never seen in cultured pearls. It would have brought a fabulous sum in any market.
For a moment the missionary was speechless and gazed with awe. "Rambhau! What a pearl!"
"That pearl, Sahib, is perfect," replied the Indian quietly. The missionary looked up quickly with a new thought: Was not this the very opportunity and occasion he had prayed for to make Rambhau understand the value of Christ's sacrifice? So he said, designedly, "Rambhau, this is a wonderful pearl, an amazing pearl. Let me buy it. I would give you ten thousand dollars for it."
"Sahib! What do you mean?"
"Well, I will give you fifteen thousand dollars for it, or if it takes more I will work for it."
"Sahib," said Rambhau, stiffening his whole body, "this pearl is beyond price. No man in all the world has money enough to pay what this pearl is worth to me. On the market a million dollars could not buy it. I will not sell it to you. You may only have it as a gift."
"No, Rambhau, I cannot accept that. As much as I want the pearl, I cannot accept it that way. Perhaps I am proud, but that is too easy. I must pay for it, or work for it."
The old pearl-diver was stunned. "You don't understand at all, Sahib. Don't you see. My only son gave his life to get this pearl, and I wouldn't sell it for any money. Its worth is in the life-blood of my son. I cannot sell this but I can give it to you. Just accept it in token of the love I bear you."
The missionary was choked, and for a moment could not speak. Then he gripped the hand of the old man. "Rambhau," he said in a low voice, "don't you see? My words are just what you have been saying to God all the time."
The diver looked long and searchingly at the missionary, and slowly, slowly he began to understand. "God is offering you salvation as a free gift," said the missionary. "It is so great and priceless that no man on earth can buy it. Millions of dollars are too little. No
man on earth could earn it. His life would be millions of years too short. No man is good enough to deserve it. It cost God the life-blood of His only Son to make the entrance for you into heaven. In a million years, in a hundred pilgrimages, you could not earn that
entrance. All you can do is to accept it as a token of God's love for you a sinner.
"Rambhau, of course I will accept the pearl in deep humility, praying God that I may be worthy of your love. Rambhau, won't you accept God's great gift of heaven, too, in deep humility, knowing it cost Him the death of His Son to offer it to you?"
Great tears were now rolling down the cheeks of the old man. The veil was beginning to lift. "Sahib, I see it now. I have believed in the doctrine of Jesus for the last two years, but I could not believe that His salvation was free. Now I understand. Some things are too priceless to be bought or earned. Sahib, I will accept His salvation!" | |
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| Hidden Treasures |
Feb 2, 2006 7:55 pm
233 Views | Sometimes we don't realize the treasure that's within our grasp until it's gone.
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Often we wait until it's too late to say "I was wrong and I'm sorry, "
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We apparently have the propensity to always hurt those we hold closest to our heart.
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Without thinking we allow silly, foolish, little things to tear our lives apart.
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Far too many times we let unimportant thoughts and petty ideas dictate to our mind.
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And then it's usually too late to see why or how they could have made us blind.
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Be sure to speak up and let loved ones know how much they mean to you.
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Take time to say the words that may be hidden deep in your heart, before your time is through.
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Be sure that you appreciate everything, even all the little things, those you may have forgot.
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And be thankful for those secrets of your heart, all the little encounters in life that meant a lot. | |
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| The Most Beautiful Heart |
Feb 2, 2006 4:24 pm
212 Views | One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large
crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the
young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other
pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing. The people stared how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought?
The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine,
mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have
given my love. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.
Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful
heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.
Give A Piece of Your Heart Away This Valentine's Day! | |
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| The Folded Napkins, A Truckers Story |
Feb 2, 2006 2:58 pm
209 Views | If this doesn't light your fire..your wood is wet!
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are
homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the
ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids
traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.
I shouldn't have worried. After the first week,
Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby
little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him.
He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every
salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who
stopped to check on him every so often, admitted
they had fallen between the cracks. Money was
tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.
That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new
valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and
did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked."We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.""I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?"
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said. "But I
don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle
all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and
really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face."What's up?" I asked. "I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded
and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the
napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie".
"Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers."
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot
and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop
grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.
"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper apkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the Money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled
on it. I turned to his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving,".
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.
Simply the Best worker I ever hired. | |
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